


A Shock of Soundless Thunder

by ravenbringslight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki, Can be read as gen or not it's up to you, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Blood, Norse Bro Feels, Soul Bond, Spells & Enchantments, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight
Summary: Loki goes to great lengths to save Thor's life, but that might not be the only thing he's saving."Loki reflected that if he were a mortal that they would sing songs of his glory for generations to come for completing even one of the many tasks looming before him, and he aimed to do them all in one night. And no one would ever know, because he would die before he would admit to anybody the lengths that he was willing to go to to save his wretched brother."





	A Shock of Soundless Thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Shock of Soundless Thunder （无声惊雷）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911586) by [ElisaDay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisaDay/pseuds/ElisaDay)



> this was supposed to be a short prompt fill for tumblr (the prompt was "nurse me") but it ran away from me enough that I thought it deserved its own fic!

When Thor fell time slowed to a crawl, and so it was that Loki had a tiny eternity to take in every detail. He saw the red ribbon of Thor’s cape arcing behind him gracefully as he plummeted. He saw the sunlight catch Captain Rogers’s shield as it parted the swirling clouds of dust from the destruction of the city block they were fighting in. He saw Amora’s henchman grin smugly as he lowered the staff that had fired the bolt that brought Thor down, its tip still glowing faintly yellow-green. And he saw Thor's Avenger friends begin to scramble - too late, too late.

A terrible wrath filled Loki's chest. Amora had *promised him*.

He walked forward as if in a dream, throwing rubble out of his way with a bare flick of his wrists.

Stark and Rogers finally made it to Thor's motionless form.

Amora’s goon opened his mouth to say something, maybe to ask for congratulations. Loki did not even spare him a glance; he simply vaporized him.

“Holy shit,” Stark said. “Is that a thing he can do? Why is that a thing he can do? Why hasn't he just been vaporizing *us* this entire time?”

Loki shot him a withering glare.

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Loki sneered. “I've never wanted you *dead*. Did you honestly think you wretched mortals were going toe to toe with a god and winning?”

He didn't wait for Stark to reply, instead waving a lazy hand and immobilizing Stark and Rogers both.

“I'm taking my brother. Don't bother attempting to follow us, you won't be able to.”

Thor's face was pale, his breathing shallow. With some difficulty, Loki heaved him over his shoulder. He cast a narrow eyed look at Mjolnir lying on the ground, then clicked his tongue in annoyance. She would have to stay here.

Loki closed his eyes, and they vanished.

***

The wound in Thor’s side pulsed sluggishly, oozing thick dark blood and filling the cabin with the stink of copper, but it was not that which scared Loki witless.

The staff that had caused the wound was one that Loki had seen before. It had been hanging on the wall in Amora’s study as they had concocted their latest scheme. Loki had recognized it as an old relic, and dangerous. The blast from its tip caused physical damage, yes, but its name held the answer to its real danger.

Soul Render.

Thor was not just leaking blood, he was leaking the essence of himself.

He tossed feverishly as Loki dabbed his forehead with a wet cloth. He would kill Amora for this. Thor was not *hers*, he was *Loki’s*.

There was not much time before Thor would be gone completely. Loki racked his brain for any scrap of healing he had ever learned, for every spell he could possibly cast, and he tried them, one after another, until he was soaked in sweat and his arms trembled, but nothing worked.

Only one spell remained.

Wearily, Loki bound Thor to the bed, leaving him just enough slack to reach a cup of water he left sitting on the table next to it in case he should wake. He banked the fire and secreted every knife in the cabin somewhere on his person.

Brushing Thor’s damp hair back from his brow, he kissed him once on the forehead.

He left.

***

Loki reflected that if he were a mortal that they would sing songs of his glory for generations to come for completing even one of the many tasks looming before him, and he aimed to do them all in one night. And no one would ever know, because he would die before he would admit to anybody the lengths that he was willing to go to to save his wretched brother.

His laughter held no humor in it.

***

Dawn light crept through the window of the cabin, and with it came the mist of morning, the trill of birdsong, and an exhausted sorcerer.

He clutched his prizes to him in a clawlike grasp, terrified that if he wasn’t holding onto them that they would slip away from him like a memory.

With shaking hands he lay them out on the table. A crystal vial holding water from each of the eleven ice rivers of Élivágar. Flowers collected from a certain mountaintop cave, accessible only by successfully negotiating with the witch who guarded it, and potent only when the moonlight entered the cave’s mouth at exactly the precise angle. A piece of stone that used to be a troll, the poor creature lithified for eternity after being caught in the sunlight. And lastly, and most barbarically, a small live serpent, one of the last of its kind, nearly impossible to find, whose still-beating heart was needed for the ritual’s completion; Loki had cast a sleep spell on it.

Thor was still breathing, to Loki’s great relief, but he looked waxy. His skin sagged on his bones.

Quickly, Loki added each ingredient except for the heart to a mortar and ground it to a fine paste, murmuring an incantation with every stroke of the pestle. It began to glow as he worked, shimmering silver and gold shot through with pulsing threads of violet and green. Thor groaned, as if he could feel the power gathering in the air even in his stupor.

Loki had almost no energy left in him. His bones ached with weariness.

He plucked hair from his own head, then from Thor’s head as well, then gathered the strands into three groups - one black, one gold, and one both together - and plaited them into a braid.

His throat felt tight. It was possible this wouldn’t work. It was possible it *would* work. Both prospects were terrifying.

Thor was fading. Loki peeled one of his eyelids back and the iris was nearly grey. Would he even make it to Valhalla if he died this way? His soul was bleeding out, dissolving. Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was time.

He drew one of his knives and made a small cut on his thumb, then wiped a smear of his blood on Thor’s forehead over his third eye. He cut Thor’s thumb and made a similar mark on his own forehead, each branded with the other.

Awkwardly, using one hand, he bound their wrists together with the plait of their combined hair. Thor’s flesh was ice cold, which strangely worried Loki more than anything else had yet. Thor was not supposed to be *cold*. Thor was warm, he was *hot*, he was the surface of the sun and the burn of lightning both. 

The half-finished potion lay barely within reach. He pinched the serpent’s tail between two fingers, and offering a silent apology he dropped in into the mixture. It disappeared with a small implosion and a shock of soundless thunder.

There was no time for thought. Loki drained half the drink and then tipped the rest into Thor’s slack mouth.

He felt it crawling through him, down his throat and into his stomach, and deeper, and as his vision started to go black his last dim thought was that even if it all went wrong at least he was getting a chance to *sleep*.

***

When Loki finally swam up out of unconsciousness the first thing that he was aware of was that his fingers were interlaced with Thor’s and they were *warm*. He nearly sobbed.

Gently he disentangled himself and ran his hands all over Thor’s body. The wound was gone. His color was perfect, his breathing deep and even, his skin plump and firm. Nervously, Loki reached out with his witchsight for Thor’s aura and found it whole and perfect as well.

It had worked. Loki thought he might faint again.

Thor began to stir, brought one hand up to his face, and Loki noticed that where the plait had bound them together that a mark of it remained tattooed on his skin. He looked down to his own wrist and found the same thing. Lightly, he traced one finger over it and felt a small thrill run down his spine.

“Brother,” Thor said, and coughed.

“Shh,” Loki said, reaching out to cup Thor’s cheek.

“What happened?”

“You were terribly wounded.”

“I - I don’t remember - Amora -?”

“Yes.”

“But you - saved me?”

“Yes.”

Thor closed his eyes and turned to kiss Loki’s palm.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Loki said, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice. “You haven’t yet asked me the price.”

Thor’s eyes snapped open, electric blue blazing straight into Loki’s core.

“What have you done now, brother?” he asked.

“We are bound together now. Forever.”

Thor huffed a short laugh.

“I could have told you that we were bound together already, my foolish Loki.”

“Not like this,” Loki said, and damnably he felt his eyes start to well. “Your soul - you were losing your soul. Amora’s staff - And I tried and I tried but I couldn’t fix it - and so I did the only thing I could think of -”

“A binding,” Thor breathed.

“Yes,” Loki said miserably. “I bound our souls together so that mine could anchor yours. And it worked, but...it cannot be undone. Thor.”

And then the tears spilled free and he thought Thor would push him away, but he gathered him to his chest instead, and Loki wept in his arms.

After a span of time that could have been minutes or could have been hours, Loki finally rose to tend the fire and fetch them some water. He returned and stood next to the bed gazing down at his brother.

“I can sense you,” Thor said.

“Yes.”

“Can you sense me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you feel this?”

Loki felt the cord between them surge with warmth and then something else - and it washed over him and through him, into his guts, into his marrow, into every broken shard of his heart, and with a cry he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

“I never knew,” he gasped.

“I’ve told you a thousand times before.”

“Yes, but. I never *knew*.” Loki looked up at him in wonder.

“I love you,” Thor said simply.

***

When they finally left the cabin a week later, Loki reflected that Thor might have healed him more than he had healed Thor.


End file.
